


To Have You

by Different_approach



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Cult, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Breeding Kink, Camming, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Fuckbuddies, Hand Job, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Work, Vaping, misogynistic language, sex cam work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Different_approach/pseuds/Different_approach
Summary: (AU) Jacob really can’t explain how he ended up in his (late) forties and a cam...man. But he’s gonna convince Staci Pratt (definitely not his boyfriend) to appear on camera with him. Because it’ll be fun.





	To Have You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devils_trap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devils_trap/gifts).



> devils_trap is basically the best ever and I’m kind of nervous but I hope there’s nothing in here on your personal nope list but...you know. I’d been thinking about this AU for awhile and finally kicked my ass in gear to write it. It’s just an excuse for sex without...you know, the situation being totally fucked up.

“No fucking way,” Pratt bites, showing his teeth as his plush lips pull back. He’s feral, wild, and such a fucking ass.

Then again, Jacob’s near-addicted to that ass. 

“You want me to beg, Peaches?” Jacob thrusts particularly hard, watching how Pratt’s hair bounces up as he rides Jacob’s dick, thighs clamping tight around Jacob’s legs as he constricts his hole. Trying to make Jacob come first, no doubt. Last time, Pratt sat on Jacob’s face after he blew his load too soon. Jerked his own cock fast and hard while Jacob ate his ass. Would have been fucking perfect too, if not for the latex-y taste from Jacob’s condom.

Staci stretches his hands high over his head, exaggerating the lean lines of his body. Most would probably tick off ‘Vanity,’ as Staci Pratt’s sin, right up there with “Lust,” but it’s really the Wrath that keeps Jacob coming back.

Jacob wraps his hands around the smallest part of Pratt’s waist, there’s still plenty of skin he can’t get around, but Jacob likes pressing his thumbs into Pratt’s abdomen, feeling out the muscles just below the surface, not quite visible until Staci’s contorting at a particular angle.

“Want you to beg, Jacob,” Pratt smiles, slow and easy to match the languid pace he adopts, spearing himself on Jacob’s dick at just the angle that he likes. When they first started fucking, Jacob gave him shit about being a size queen. Pratt snapped back that Jacob wasn’t even the biggest that he’s had, so maybe it’s best he keep his trap shut. Size is good, but not everything.

One day, Jacob’s gonna ask what he’s got that keeps Pratt coming back.

Under different circumstances, Jacob might give in and _beg_ , but right now he’s having too much fucking fun, watching Pratt try to destroy himself on his cock.

“Or,” Jacob holds him tight around the waist as he tips Pratt over, so he lands with his back against the sheets. 

Pratt’s got two roommates in the three-bedroom they split the rent on, but they’re both out. Jacob doesn’t know them really at all. Pratt only texts him to come over once they’re gone. Otherwise, they fuck in Jacob’s place across town. But Pratt’s got central air and a bed that’s too big to sleep in alone. Not like Jacob ever dawdles or tries to spend the night. But he bets if he asks, he could.

“Or what, asshole?”

Jacob wraps one of his hands around Pratt’s neck, not bothering to close his fingers tight. Doesn’t have to, just the sensation of being held around his throat gets Staci’s eyes to roll back in his skull and a sound that’s near-inhuman past his lips.

“Maybe I don’t agree to being your life-size fuck bench anymore.”

Pratt laughs, Jacob’s hand still covering this throat, “You’d give in first, Jacob,” Pratt taunts, humming in his throat so the vibrations spread across Jacob’s palm. “You’d fucking come crawling back to me like the fucking dog you are.”

Jacob pulls almost all the way out, just to prove his point. He leaves the head of his cock just stretching Pratt’s rim, keeping him open enough to know what he’s missing. It takes every ounce of willpower Jacob’s got not to slide back in. Because Pratt looks fucking delicious beneath him, all big brown eyes and messy hair and flushed-dark skin.

Pratt grins up at him, shifting his hips just enough to take another inch. His cock is hard and practically leaking against the dark hair that covers his lower abdomen, growing sparser as it climbs up his torso.

“You’re not even trying to make it worth my while,” Pratt says, trying to move again. But this time, Jacob holds his hips in place so he can’t sink on his cock.

Jacob pants, “What’s it gonna take?”

“Oh? And here I thought you were going to hold out on me.” He throws up his legs and gets them wrapped around Jacob’s hips, using them to drag Jacob back in with a sharp, brutal stroke. Must’ve hit him hard because Pratt lets out this mangled gasp, even though he fucking did it to himself. Jacob could have resisted, probably, maybe. He sure as fuck is stronger than Pratt, though Pratt’s thighs and calves are no fucking joke.

Leaning in, Jacob scratches his mouth along Pratt’s jaw, using his teeth to drag at Pratt’s pretty face, down to his neck. It’s okay to kiss when they fuck. They both like it, wet, open mouths and tongues and teeth. But right now, Jacob just wants to mark him up.

“Pretty, pretty, please?” Jacob mocks, biting down briefly at the junction of Pratt’s neck and shoulder, where he’s certain the collar on Pratt’s uniform will hide with plenty of room to spare. “You’ll fucking love it. I know you will.”

Pratt reaches between them to wrap his hand around his cock, pumping a little faster than Jacob fucks into him. “You just won’t take no for an answer, will you?” Pratt huffs, starting to rolls his hips again. “God fucking damnit, just fuck me like you mean it.”

Looping his hands underneath Pratt’s knees, Jacob pulls his legs free from around his hips. He shove Pratt’s legs back, pushing the boundaries of Pratt’s flexibility to get his ankles closer to his head. 

“Fuuuuck,” Pratt groans as Jacob thrusts in him again, the angle sharper now, striking against Pratt’s prostate harder than he probably should. But Pratt himself never seems to mind, clawing at Jacob’s shoulder with one hand and leaving claw marks behind instead of breathing a single complaint.

Jacob sees it, the exact moment Pratt starts to come, his eyes fluttering closed and his mouth obscenely open, his whole body jerking underneath Jacob as he spills messily over his abs and chest. Always comes a lot, when Jacob fucks him. What a fucking sight.

Pulling out, Jacob rolls the condom off, taking his cock in hand and stroking himself furiously until he comes in ropes across Pratt’s stomach. Pratt’s still breathing heavy as Jacob stumbles out of bed, just far enough to toss the condom into the wastebasket by the door.

“Ugh,” Pratt lifts one hand in the air waving in Jacob’s general direction. “Not there, Joey’s cat gets into fucking everything.”

Not heading Pratt’s warning, Jacob falls back into bed, telling Pratt he’ll take his trash all the way to the damn dumpster out back when he gets ready to leave.

They’re not much for cuddling, but Jacob doesn’t particularly feel like staying upright either, letting his gaze linger on Pratt’s body as he tries to mop up their come with his underwear.

“Fuck it,” Pratt curses, throwing his soiled boxers in the general vicinity of his laundry pile. He reaches for the nightstand to grab his vape. Using the pillow to prop himself up against the headboard, he takes a long drag from the mouthpiece, exhaling vapor in a steady stream.

Cinnamon. Jacob guesses, reaching over to take the vape whether Pratt wants to share or not. “This is so fucking lame,” Jacob breathes in it though. “Whatever happened to a cigarette?”

Pratt laughs, taking the vape back, “No smoking building. Besides, I got tired of menthols by the time I was old enough to smoke.”

Jacob rolls onto his stomach, enjoying how big Pratt’s bed really is. He turns his head just enough in the pillow to watch Pratt while he vapes.

“What’s your hang up about it, anyway? I totally thought you’d be into the idea?” Jacob asks.

He and Pratt have been fucking about six months. Not an exclusive thing at all. Typical story of guy meets guy on a hookup app and proceeds to have killer sex. One taste wasn’t enough. Jacob’s still fucking other people, sometimes. He assumes the same of Pratt. But this is about as regular a thing as Jacob’s managed in years. Pratt is hot, and suitably open to trying new things. Plus...he’s a lot younger than Jacob and that has its own sort of appeal. Pratt knows about Jacob’s job and doesn’t have a problem with it.

Pratt rolls his eyes, “Yeah, because it’s going to go fucking great when I pull over some punkass kid for speeding and he recognizes me from a cam site.”

Okay, so maybe Pratt has a point there. “We can cover your face. So unless you’re showing your dick to traffic stops, I think you’ll be alright.”

Pratt frowns like he’s considering it.

Jacob’s been camming for awhile now. Wasn’t the job he anticipated having, certainly not in his late forties. But turns out he fills a certain kind of niche. One that apparently appeals to men with deep pockets willing to throw their money at him to look stern and stroke his dick. Gets a little more when he’s up to talking dirty. But he already finds being on camera tiring enough. 

Lately though, he’s gotten a lot of requests to fuck someone on camera. He gets it, just a wider variety of material. Something novel. He’s only done solo stuff up until this point. Honestly, he’s not that interested in transitioning into porn writ large. Doesn’t like the idea of having to perform with a dozen people in the room all not-so-silently judging his technique. It’s easier to put out of his mind when everyone watching him is hidden behind the computer screen.

If he’s going to fuck someone on camera, he wants it to be someone he’d be fucking anyway. He wants it to be Pratt. He’s got the body for it, he’s vocal, and shameless. And really fucking expressive, but if they have to cover his face, Jacob will let that slide just to get him to agree. Going in bare is going to read better than using a condom, but Jacob figures he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

“How would I cover my face?” Staci asks, and Jacob knows he’s taking the offer seriously.

“Seen guys do it with ski masks, or fetish hoods. Or you’d really be surprised how hard it is to recognize someone if they just have a bandana covering the lower half of their face.” Jacob tries to demonstrate by covering his mouth and chin with one of his hands.

Pratt scoffs, “there’s no mistaking you,” he comments, pressing two fingers gently to the side of Jacob’s head, against his burn. Anyone else, and Jacob would fucking cut off that hand. “Send me some examples, okay? Then I’ll decide.”

Laughing, Jacob calls Pratt out, “you just want me to find good scenes for you to watch when you’re by your lonesome.” As far as Jacob knows, Pratt never watches his videos.

“Maybe so,” Pratt smiles.

—

It takes a couple of days before Jacob sends Pratt a few links. Mostly from amateurs, rather than cam sites. People who just release their sex tapes into the wild for public consumption. He’s sure to send a variety of different ones. Unless Pratt’s been holding out on him, Jacob is pretty sure the bondage hood is out. Jacob’s not even sure he’d be into it. Though he’s thought more than once about Pratt being a little more docile, ceding a little more control. But he sends a couple of different videos with masks, and two examples with bandanas. 

Jacob titles the email “shit you should definitely open at work on your state-owned computer” and hits send. It’ll probably take a couple days for Pratt to get back to him.

—

Pratt calls him three days later, in the late afternoon. Jacob is in the middle of lying down on his couch and doing nothing in his boxers and socks and nothing else.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on shift, officer?” Jacob teases. Pratt has given him a hard ‘no’ to that particular role-play in the past, but Jacob still gives him shit about it.

“Just finished up. I’m about to head home but uh, you know. Not a lot of privacy to have this conversation.”

“Where are you now?”

“In my car, in the McDonald’s parking lot. Bandana. I like that one.”

“Yeah?” Jacob sits up straight on the couch, giving Pratt his full attention.

“Yeah. You’re right. That it’s actually hard to visualize what the rest of the face looks like.”

Jacob’s heart beats faster. Maybe, secretly, Jacob likes the bandana option. Leaves Pratt’s eyes on display. Draping one arm across the back of the sofa, Jacob starts on the second topic they need to discuss.

“How might you feel about doing it without a condom?”

Even though Pratt says nothing, Jacob swears he can hear his gears grinding. Or maybe that’s his teeth. 

“You’ll show me your STI screen?”

“If you show me yours. Can probably get one done later this week. I’m on PrEP too.”

“So am I…” Pratt’s voice fades out. “Get the screen done. And we’ll talk about it. Okay?” Some of the fight has gone out of Pratt’s voice and Jacob wonders if he’s hit a nerve. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it, because Pratt has already hung up.

—

Jacob gets his screen done, checks the results. He’s come back clean. He leaves the envelope with the results on the kitchen counter, while he waits for Pratt to arrive. 

The Chinese takeout he ordered gets there before Pratt does. He sticks the whole bag into the microwave to try and keep the heat contained. 

They’re not going to cam tonight. Jacob doesn’t even think they’re likely to hookup. Pratt is just coming over so they can talk about what they’re going to do, and he wants to show Pratt the camera and lighting setup, so he’s not trying to process everything at once. Jacob doesn’t leave that shit out in the bedroom, because most of the time, the guys he sleeps with don’t know what he does for a living. It’s none of their fucking business. 

Pratt’s different though.

Yeah, Jacob knows he’s well and truly fucked. But it’s not Pratt’s fault he’s twenty-six and very obviously still keen on playing the field a little longer. At Pratt’s age, Jacob would have never fucking considered settling down. Hell, didn’t even think about it at thirty-six. Saying anything to Pratt would be a fucking drag, and he’s not about to give up the sex just because sometimes he thinks it wouldn’t be so bad to wake up next to Pratt.

While he waits for Pratt to show his face he boots up the computer in the bedroom. He pulls the camera out of the dresser drawer and positions it so it’s facing the bed. They’ll have to check the angle before they actually go live. By now, Jacob knows how to aim it when he’s solo, but he’s not sure how that same position will work while he’s fucking Pratt.

He gets the two ring lights on stands out of the closet and puts them in the usual positions, but doesn’t bother to flip them on. They’re bright enough and with two of them he doesn’t get many shadows. Mostly he had to figure shit out by trial and error, investing in better equipment as he started to make more money. Good quality video and audio ultimately resulted in more subscribers and outright donations. So the investment has been worth it. He even swallowed his pride at one point and asked his brother to find a friend who could help him with the streaming software. John knows about Jacob’s job, but Jacob wasn’t about to have his little brother teach him how to stream if he could avoid it. That would be a bridge too far. Joe doesn’t know a thing about anything. Would probably try and lecture Jacob about “sins of the flesh and mind.”

There’s a knock at Jacob’s door that could only be Pratt. Leaving the rest of the setup for later, he goes to open the door. And sure enough, Pratt is there, dressed in jeans that are cut almost indecently narrow and a green and black flannel that’s just a touch too big. His hair is still damp from the shower, but pulled back into the tiniest of ponytails to keep it off his neck and out of his face. Pratt only pulls his hair back like that when he’s about to eat.

“I’m starved,” Pratt says, pushing past Jacob and into the living room. He’s been to Jacob’s apartment before and knows how to show himself around.

“In the microwave,” Jacob tells him, when Pratt clearly smells food but can’t find it.

They eat off the kitchen countertops. Jacob has a small table just off the kitchen with two chairs. Birch wood and everything. One of the nicer pieces of furniture he owns. But Pratt just keeps shoveling food in his maw like he’s a dying man. Explaining between bites of kung pao chicken that work was a disaster and he spent all day babysitting some soccer mom who basically wrecked a Starbucks with her bare hands. He eats all the chicken first, then the whole box of rice. And after that Jacob is certain they’re not fucking today.

It’s weird...knowing that they’re going to spend time together without taking off their pants. First time for everything.

Jacob tells Pratt he can bring his beer into the bedroom while they take a look at Jacob’s equipment. Taking a last big gulp, Pratt goes back into the fridge for a second beer before trotting along after Jacob.

The computer is ready to go now, but Jacob didn’t open the streaming software before Pratt got here and it takes a couple minute to load up completely and run diagnostics on the microphone and the camera.

“These lights are pretty bright when they’re on,” Jacob explains. He stands next to the one closer to the window and flips it on so Pratt can see just how much light each one gives off, before flipping it back off. No reason to blind themselves now.

They sit side by side on the edge of Jacob’s bed. Probably fucked on it half a dozen times before. But this feels different, waiting for the program to finish up and show them the monitoring feed.

“So it’s off but,” Jacob gives the camera a wave, “I like having the monitor up on one side to make sure everything is in frame. Then I have the chat open on the other side, to see what people are saying.”

“So you’re going to be….reading it while you’re fucking me?” Pratt asks, there’s something worried in his tone.

“Nah,” Jacob leans back on his hands. “I do when I solo, but honestly, you’re distracting enough. Probably will have to look into the monitor though, to make sure we’re framed right at the camera.”

Pratt looks up, directly into the lens and Jacob meets his eyes through the monitor. God, this is going to be so fucking hot. They’re not even doing anything and Pratt looks good in front of the camera. 

“Thought we might try out some positions, clothed. Just so I have a better idea of how to aim on the day of.”

Smiling into the camera, Pratt drawls out, “Sure, sure,” his rural accent coming through stronger than it usually does. Jacob forgets, sometimes, that Pratt and his friends are really from bumfuck nowhere. Rome isn’t exactly a thriving metropolis, but it’s probably ten times bigger than the town the three of them crawled out of.

“Here, stand up,” Jacob says, before sitting back down where he normally perches at the end of the bed when he’s masturbating for the camera, “Try sitting on my lap.”

It’s all about as sexy as Jacob expected it to be. Which is not at all. He’s too worried about keeping track of what’s in frame and what’s obscured in each position. Even though Pratt’s lower face will be covered, Jacob wants the camera to get his eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead as he screams Jacob’s name. They try it from behind too, Pratt on his elbows and knees facing towards the camera and Jacob behind him. Then one last shot of Pratt riding him, with their left sides turned towards the camera. Pratt sits over his thighs and Jacob asks him to bounce while he watches in the monitor.

Jacob adjusts the camera, pulling the zoom out a little bit and then tilting up. They run through the positions a second time and Jacob is satisfied with the results. There’s just one more thing they need to take care of.

“Left my results in the kitchen, gotta grab them.”

“Oh yeah,” Pratt says, “mine are in my bag.”

They head back out to the living room. Jacob pulls his results out and Pratt passes his over with the flap open but still in the envelope. Everything on Pratt’s is clear too. Which means they’re good to go without the rubber.

Pratt draws breath sharply, when he reaches the end of the results page.

“Uh,” Jacob fumbles, “we can still use the condom. It’s fine.” He may have goaded Pratt into being in front of the camera a little bit. But he’s not a total asshole, and he can tell Pratt is uncomfortable with the idea.

“No, it’s fine, I want to. Maybe,” he laughs, “kind of might want it too much….you going to come in me?”

Fuck, the idea alone is enough to get Jacob’s dick hard in his jeans. If Pratt keeps going down that path, they’re gonna end up fucking anyway.

“Depends, you gonna let me eat you out?”

Pratt groans. Neither of them might be in any state to bottom. But that doesn’t mean they can get off together. Jacob presses Pratt down on the couch and drops to his knees between his thighs. Getting Pratt’s cock out of those fucking pants is almost more trouble than it’s worth. But once Pratt’s pulling on his hair and shoving his cock down Jacob’s throat like fucking battering ram, Jacob can honestly and completely confirm that it was worth the effort.

“God, fuck, Jacob,” once Pratt’s come down Jacob’s throat, he practically melts off the couch and into Jacob’s lap. Thumbing at Jacob’s bottom lip he asks, “do those men who watch you know what a fucking slut you are for cock?”

Jacob laughs, wrapping his arms around Pratt’s back to keep him upright across his lap. Pratt starts pawing at Jacob’s belt buckle with both hands and pulling Jacob’s cock free is a relief in itself.

Jacob probably hadn’t bottomed in six or seven years before Pratt. Wasn’t with anyone he felt comfortable enough to let try. Pratt’s only been in his ass a handful of times, but Jacob _likes_ getting bossed around by Pratt. Likes being put on his knees and getting slapped around a little.

“No, they don’t,” Jacob rasps. He can still feel Pratt at the back of his throat. “Wanna show them as an encore, Peaches? Stuff your dick in me?”

Pratt licks a long stripe down his palm and wraps his hand around Jacob’s shaft. Working him fast, with just enough tension and friction to put Jacob on edge. Leaning close, Pratt whispers obscenities in Jacob’s ear. That an ass like Jacob’s is wasted without a cock in it. About how wrecked he looks when he takes Pratt’s dick. Like he was fucking made for it.

Jacob makes a mess of both of them, coming across both their shirts while digging his fingers into Pratt’s back fierce enough to leave prints behind. Pratt laughs, cradling Jacob’s face with his messy hands and kissing him with a bemused joy. Climbing off, Pratt is still a little wobbly on his feet, even though he came first and has had plenty of time to recover. He stumbles off towards the bathroom.

Too boneless to really move, Jacob flops down onto the floor, listening to the water running in the bathroom and Pratt talking to himself. The door and distance muffle whatever it is Pratt’s saying. 

When Pratt’s done cleaning up in the bathroom, Jacob rolls onto his side and pushes himself up. He strips out of his shirt, washes his face, wipes down around his flaccid dick. He’s not going anywhere, so he doesn’t bother changing his jeans. They’ll go into the wash once Pratt leaves.

Pratt’s sprawled out on the couch, a third beer clutched in both his hands and his vape on the coffee table. The heather gray shirt he was wearing underneath his flannel is almost as stupidly tight at his jeans, pulling nicely around his biceps and taut enough across his chest that Jacob can make out his nipples. Were Jacob a younger man, he might try and make another go at it. Hell, at Pratt’s age, maybe Jacob could get him riled up enough again to at least play with him a little bit.

“Didn’t you drive?” Jacob asks, collapsing onto the couch in the tiny sliver of space Pratt has left for him. With Jacob in place, Pratt stretches out even more, landing with his head in Jacob’s lap and his beer perched on his stomach,

“Duly noted, Officer Seed,” Pratt rolls his eyes. “Trying to get rid of me so soon?”

Jacob does his absolute fucking best not to read too much into that. Should get a fucking medal in “Not interpreting shit from Staci Pratt as being indicative of wanting a commitment.” Though that might be hard to get engraved on the reverse side.

Jacob flips on the television and they spend the next hour watching sports highlights from earlier in the evening. They don’t really make conversation, but they comment on the replays. Jacob finds himself playing with Pratt’s hair but Pratt doesn’t stop him so he just keeps going, twirling strands around his fingers then letting the soft curls unfurl.

When Pratt figures he’s sober enough to drive, he pushes himself to his feet. He’s got a shift that starts at seven in the morning and it’s just before midnight now. If he doesn’t get some rest he’ll be dead on his feet.

“What day do you want to do this?” Pratt asks, pulling out his phone. He’s got his soiled flannel tucked under one arm. 

Jacob usually streams four nights a week, Wednesday through Friday, then again on Sunday.

“Next Sunday?” He reaches out to grab the flannel from Pratt. He can wash it and give it back to him then.

Pratt doesn’t look up, still fidgeting with his phone. “Yeah, okay, I can probably get that Monday off if I put in tomorrow.”

Jacob smiles to himself, since Pratt isn’t fucking looking. Thinking about how Pratt already knows he’s going to be too fucked out to go to work the next morning.

Jacob sees him to the door, readying to lock up for the night behind him. Pratt’s still poking at his phone like he’s trying to deliberately ignore Jacob now. He tries not to take it personally, Pratt probably has plenty of shit going on in his life that Jacob doesn’t need to know about. They’re just fuckbuddies.

But with Pratt halfway in the hall and Jacob prepared to close the door, Pratt pulls the phone out from in front of his face, comes up the tiniest bit on his toes and kisses Jacob’s lips. So quickly it might as well have never happened, before going right back to whatever the fuck is so important and walking down the hall.

—

Jacob doesn’t see or hear from Pratt until the Saturday before they’re supposed to stream. Just a simple text saying that he’s got Monday off of work and confirming that they’re still on for Sunday. Jacob texts back that everything is good to go. He’d mentioned in his Friday session that he had something planned for Sunday, leaving it unclear exactly what that was in case Pratt ended up blanking him.

He spends his Saturday as he normally would, other than not having plans for the evening. Mostly Jacob just lounges around, watches TV, does a whole lot of nothing other than existing in the quiet security of his apartment.

John calls him in the afternoon, talking a mile a minute about how he’s finally met “the one.” Jacob has heard John give this same, meandering, manic speech probably a dozen times before. It never works out. Jacob might be concerned except for the fact it’s John who always breaks it off. So Jacob has learned to just let John ride whatever emotional rollercoaster he’s queued up for with the knowledge that at least he doesn’t have to go kick the shit out of some creep for breaking his little brother’s heart.

—

Pratt arrives thirty minutes before they’re supposed to start. He smells like soap and that expensive coconut gel he puts in his hair that leaves his curls soft while tamping down the flyaways. No flannel this time, just a white shirt and jeans, leather belt, shoes that are too nice. He looks fucking good. Then again, he always does.

“You should put this on,” Jacob hands him back his washed flannel. “I want to take it off you on camera.”

“Okay,” Pratt accepts the shirt, asking if he could have a beer or ten. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” he clarifies, “but I can still be nervous.”

“Right,” Jacob assures him, heading for the fridge. “You ever make a sex tape before?” These are maybe questions Jacob should have asked before they got this close to the deadline. But he’s just trying to calm Pratt’s nerves. Beer will probably do a better job than him, though.

“I let a guy in college film me on his phone,” Pratt shrugs, then downs half the beer at once. “I had my head buried in the pillow the whole time. And when we watched it back, he had just focused on his dick going in and out of my ass. Nothing even remotely identifiable.”

What a waste, Jacob thinks. Not that Pratt doesn’t have a nice ass. He has a great ass. But if it were up to Jacob, he’d want a little bit of everything, and, okay a lot of Pratt’s face when he’s about to come.

“I’m not gonna get too rough with you. But my audience mostly goes in for the whole...trade fantasy. So while I fully expect you to still be your mouthy, bratty self, don’t expect me to give into your demands.”

Pratt polishes off his beer and makes a grabby hand for Jacob to get him another. “Got it, so next time, I’m definitely laying you out.”

Jacob rolls his eyes. He doesn’t expect there to be a next time. At least not for awhile. He means it that he doesn’t want to totally transition into harder stuff. He’s looking forward to the potential payday this stream might net him. But he doesn’t want the expectation to become that he’s fucking guys on camera all the time. Before he even asked Pratt about doing this he had to go through a bunch of paperwork just to make sure that he wasn’t violating any contract terms he has with his host to do an anal scene with another person on his channel.

They head for the bedroom, Pratt leaving his beer behind in the kitchen. Jacob already has everything set up, but he wants to double check the position on the camera and asks Pratt to sit in his lap for a second to confirm before they get started. Pratt complies, sticking his ass in Jacob’s lap, back to Jacob’s chest, and spreading his legs wide over Jacob’s thighs. Last time they checked the camera felt more detached, clinical. But knowing that pretty soon they’re going to be fucking on camera sends a little thrill down Jacob’s spine. He’s long since got over the novelty of being naked on stream. Right now, he’s mostly excited about being able to watch Pratt on the monitor...or rewatch the scene later.

“Good?” Pratt asks, squirming in his lap. Jacob can hear the smile in Pratt’s voice, the little shit.

“Yeah,” Jacob is ready to fight just as dirty, breathing the affirmation against Pratt’s exposed neck. “Good.”

Pratt goes very still with Jacob’s arms wrapped around his waist. This time, when he wiggles his hips, Jacob is pretty sure it’s because he’s hard in those dumb pants.

“Okay,” Jacob slaps Pratt’s thigh, letting go of him so Pratt can get up, “we start in five. Anything you wanna do, do it now.”

“I cleaned up and ate right, but I didn’t stretch before I came over….”

“I’ll do it on camera, if you don’t mind?”

Pratt’s breath hitches a little, “Okay.”

Jacob hands Pratt the bandana, a navy blue and white one that he already had in his underwear drawer. Pratt disappears to the bathroom to put it on in the mirror while Jacob waits at the edge of the bed. Once he’s satisfied that his face is covered, Pratt sits down beside Jacob. Jacob squeezes his hand, telling him he’s going to turn the stream on now.

There’s a six second delay between when he hits “start stream” and when the feed is actually live. Enough time for Jacob to sit back down next to Pratt and not make it totally obvious that Jacob runs the whole set up alone. 

Jacob quirks just the corners of his lips in a practiced half-smile he uses for work. Not the big, toothy grin he has an awful habit of giving Pratt. His work persona is a little harder, more reserved than he normally is. Not that he’s the most expressive guy to start with. But he’s definitely more open in private. 

“I have a friend with me today,” he says in place of a greeting. “Say hello, Peaches.”

Pratt waves at the camera with more enthusiasm than Jacob expected, saying “hello,” brightly.

The half of the screen with the chat on it bursts into a flurry of messages. Jacob has gotten pretty good at reading the window from a distance. But it’s moving so fast he barely gets to the end of a line before it’s gone. From what he can glean, almost all of it is excitement. Some of it saying that Peaches should uncover his face. They bet he’s fucking hot, if he’s Jacob’s “friend.”

“You wanna tell them what we’ll be doing today?” Jacob asks, playing with the collar on Pratt’s flannel. While Pratt talks, Jacob starts to undo the top button with one hand, careful not to obscure the view too much with his arm.

“You’re going to fuck me,” Pratt says, almost all of the mischievousness that’s normally in his tone drained out. Replaced with something softer, more inviting. Bordering on submissive. Jacob’s not about to pretend he doesn’t like it. Likes Pratt all teeth and claws too, but a change of pace is exciting in its own way. “You’re going to fuck me and come in my ass.”

Jacob gets to the final button, pushing the flannel open to expose the tight T-shirt underneath. He pulls the flannel back from Pratt’s shoulders, tossing it onto the floor and off screen.

Swinging one leg behind Pratt’s back, Jacob gets in behind him. The difference in their heights is just enough that as long as Jacob tilts his head, the camera gets them both. “Good, Peaches, tell them why you’re here.” He slides one hand under Pratt’s shirt, rucking it up just enough that the audience can get a glimpse of how cut Pratt is. With his other hand, he teases Pratt’s nipple through the cotton of his tee.

“I’m a slutty little bitch, that’s why.”

All at once, Jacob realizes that Pratt is being just as much of a pain in his ass as he normally is. Pratt’s just wrapped it up in different packaging. If he keeps up like this, Jacob is going to fucking kill him. Kill him with his dick, but you know.

Pratt moans in a way he normally reserves for when he’s just at the edge of coming, throwing his head back against Jacob’s shoulder while Jacob twists at his nipple. When it’s hard enough that it stands up on its own, Jacob moves to the other side.

“Want your cock in me so bad, Jake. Want you to fucking wreck me.” Pratt arches his back, sticking his pec into Jacob’s hand and his ass more firmly against Jacob’s groin. And fuck him, Pratt never calls him ‘Jake.’

Jacob pulls off his own shirt first, followed quickly by forcing Pratt’s up and over his head. And, God, Pratt looks so fucking good on camera. His skin is so fucking smooth compared to Jacob’s, darker and more even, with Jacob’s freckled, scarred up arm wrapped around his torso, holding him in place. 

Jacob opens his mouth around Pratt’s shoulder, putting flesh between his teeth. He doesn’t bite down nearly hard enough to break the skin. That would be too weird. But he knows how to look into the camera and smile around Pratt’s shoulder, tempting the men on the other side. Probably wishing they were in Pratt’s position. But they’re all fucking fools anyway. Jacob’s the one getting the best fucking deal.

If Jacob didn’t know better, he’d think that Pratt was a fucking pro at this, instead of some mountain-raised boy who managed to become a cop without really trying too hard at anything. Because Pratt hisses and whines like the ‘bite’ is really doing something, fluttering his eyelashes closed and tilting his head to the side so the camera gets a better view of his neck.

Yeah, Jacob is going to watch this shit again.

Would've been easier if Pratt hadn’t bothered to wear a belt, but there’s something undeniably satisfying about working the buckle open with one hand, the contrast of the black leather against the white of Pratt’s shirt. Then the way his cock looks framed by his open fly. Jacob gives him two solid strokes, whispering in his ear, quieter than the mic will pick up, “knew you would fucking love this shit.”

Pratt moans like Jacob said something filthy, instead of just pointing out the obvious. 

“Gonna be good for me?” Jacob is loud enough this time that he’ll come through clearly. “You gonna ride my dick like a good slut,” Jacob wonders 1) how far he can take this and 2) how much he’s willing to suffer Pratt’s Wrath the next time they hook up. “Boy?”

Pratt breaks character for a second, a look of terrifying amusement flashing across the exposed bits of his face. Maybe the audience caught it, maybe not, but yeah, Jacob is definitely going to pay dearly for that one.

“Yeah,” Pratt moans, “Give it to me, Jake.”

Jacob starts to peel Pratt out of his jeans, but they’re too tight to shove down without Pratt standing up. Should’ve told Pratt to wear something else, but Jacob’s not sure he’s seen Pratt in pants that are any looser, save for his uniform.

When Pratt stands up, his dick gets much closer to the camera and the chat goes crazy at that. Most of the messages about how he’s got a nice cock but it’s wasted on a bottom. Other viewers interjecting that nah, hung bottoms are great, gives you something nice to look at when they’re bouncing on your dick. 

Jacob takes the opportunity to strip out of his pants. Pratt decides that’s the perfect time to turn around and show the camera his ass. Jacob can’t say he disagrees. 

“Get back over here, Peaches,” Jacob grabs Pratt’s hand and yanks him back towards the bed, Pratt nearly collapsing on top of him. Stroking his cock loosely for the camera, Jacob tells Pratt to get the lube, he needs to open that ass up for his cock. 

Pratt steps out of frame and Jacob keeps on working his cock, staring directly into the camera and winking. Which still feels ridiculous, but hey, it works. Coming back in front of the camera, Pratt passes over the bottle of lube and asks Jacob how he wants him?

“In my lap, Peaches,” Jacob pats the tops of his thighs, “show the nice men at home that hole of your before I ruin it.

The position isn’t the most natural one, Pratt has to balance most of his weight on his knees against the mattress, while Jacob tries to help hold him upright with his left arm. Lubing up his right-hand fingers, Jacob drags them across Pratt’s cleft before rubbing gentle circles against his hole, coaxing, “Let me in, come on, Peaches, know you want it.”

Jacob can’t see the monitor with Pratt’s chest blocking his view, but he’s sure that they’re painting quite the picture as his fingers disappear past Pratt’s rim, fucking up into his hole and stretching him out enough that Jacob can get his cock in. Pratt’s never been particularly fussy about needing a ton of prep. He’s experienced enough that he knows how to bear down on Jacob’s cockhead and get it in. Jacob just wants to make sure he’s lubed up well enough inside. 

“We’re doing this…” Pratt whispers, close to Jacob’s ear, the cotton of the bandana tickling against his skin. 

“We are...you okay?” Jacob spreads his fingers a little further apart, not worrying too much about depth now, just making sure Pratt will be able to open up for him. 

Pratt hums in the affirmative, “Yeah, just...I’m glad it’s you.”

Jacob doesn’t know what Pratt is talking about. But he’s sure as fuck going to ask about it when the camera is off.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” Jacob pulls his fingers out of Pratt’s hole, discretely wiping them on the sheets before lightly slapping Pratt’s cheek. “Turn around, I want them to see me fucking that tight hole.”

Entirely too gracefully Pratt swings his leg around, turning to they’re chest to back like they practiced in the walkthrough. They’ve done this position enough in private that Jacob knows they both have the core strength to stay upright for awhile. Keeping one hand on his cock to hold it in place, Jacob puts his free hand on Pratt’s hip, coaxing him to sit down on his dick.

Pratt, perfect, stupid, sexy Pratt, who is definitely going to be the death of Jacob, does an excellent job of lining everything up without looking, sinking down on the head of Jacob’s cock and exaggerating his gasp as Jacob breaches him. He holds himself just like that, Jacob’s cockhead holding him open and nothing else, before sinking torturously down to the hilt.

And god, Pratt feels so _good_ so fucking good around Jacob’s cock that he thinks he might be able to die like this. He doesn’t know for certain if it’s just in his head or not. Jacob’s been a good little boyscout mostly, mostly wrapping it up for the last thirty years. Fuck if this doesn’t feel like a decadent dessert he’s not supposed to indulge in. 

The winded sound and the laugh that bubbles from Pratt’s throat are genuine. Jacob is absolutely fucking sure. Because once, Jacob told Pratt that he _giggled_ and Pratt got so upset about it he looked ready to box Jacob’s ears.

Jacob makes a show of spreading his fingers as wide as he can against the flat of Pratt’s stomach, pressing down and saying that he can fucking feel his cock inside of Pratt. Reaching back, Pratt tries to grab hold of Jacob’s hair like he would normally, then seems to think better of it.

Pratt starts to lift his weight back up, then the smooth slide back down on Jacob’s shaft. His cock bounces lewdly against his stomach on each thrust, hitting hard against his stomach. Takes a lot of fucking self control for Jacob to not blow his load right then and there, watching Pratt fuck himself on Jacob’s dick, his eyes wide and mouth covered up. Wrangling his thoughts back into submission, Jacob’s hands drift to Pratt’s nipples again, rolling them between his index and middle fingers.

Pratt hisses, “Hurts,” but Jacob knows he doesn’t mean it. Pratt likes it rougher than Jacob is giving it to him. Even when he starts thrusting shallowly up into Pratt’s ass as he’s coming down.

Jacob had planned for two more positions, but at the rate they’re going, he’s going to be lucky to fit one in. Grabbing Pratt by both hips, he drags him off his cock and scoots back further on the bed. Pratt starts getting on his hands and knees, so they’re both still facing the camera lens. He does his best to play along like Jacob is tossing him around to get him how he wants him, but Pratt is mostly dictating how they get into position.

Slamming back into Pratt, Jacob brings down his open palm on the meatiest part of Pratt’s ass. The slap is fucking loud and Jacob does it again, Pratt groaning underneath him. 

“Yeah, give it to me, oh, fuck me harder, fuck. Make me your bitch.”

Goddamnit, Pratt is such a fucking shit.

Jacob puts his hand on the back of Pratt’s neck, forcing him face first into the mattress. He keeps letting out these delicious, high-pitched whines, every time Jacob slaps their hips together. Doesn’t matter if he’s exaggerating, Pratt’s just being so _good to him_.

Pratt starts working his own dick with his hand, in a way that lets Jacob know he’s close. Jacob can’t help but be a little bit grateful, because he’s nearing the end of his endurance as it is. Grabbing Pratt by the hair, he yanks his face back up, forcing him to look directly into the lens. Later, Jacob will look to see if his eyes went wide like saucers, or if they rolled back in his head. But right now, in the moment, he’s too focused on the line of Pratt’s body beneath him, his shoulders, his back, the noises that just keep tumbling out of his mouth.

“God….Jake….breed me.”

Jacob fucking loses it. 

He’s coming before he can even think to breathe, much less say something equally filthy back. All he can manage is keep himself flush against Pratt’s ass and come, lightning and static searing across his skin.

Letting go of Pratt’s hair, Jacob drops him back onto the mattress. He at least has enough sense left that he knows he’s gotta wrap up the stream, though right now, he just wants to be alone with Pratt. Blanketing his body over top of Pratt’s he tries not to rest too much of his weight on him. He takes Pratt by the hair again, pulling so he knows to look up from the mattress.

“Thank me,” he growls. “And thank the viewers at home, Peaches.”

“Thank you, Jake,” Pratt sighs. “Thank you,” he repeats directly into the camera.

Jacob smiles, making sure the viewers see, then gets up to cut the feed.

He lets out a long, satisfied groan before flopping back into bed next to Pratt, who's already busy pulling the bandana off his mouth and letting it hang loosely around his neck. The sheets are going to need to be changed before he goes to bed. But that can wait.

“You okay?” Jacob asks, resting one hand on Pratt’s lower back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pratt dismisses his concerns. “That was hot. You know,” he rolls onto his side so he’s facing Jacob. “I don’t watch your shit, because that would be...weird but uhhh, if you have a recording.”

Jacob laughs, “I’ll email you a copy.”

“Another thing, if you ever fucking call me ‘boy’ again.”

“Fuck, I won’t!” Jacob promises in good humor. “I’d like to keep my balls attached to my body. But can’t blame a guy for trying.” There’s that other thing, Jacob has to ask about, “Hey Pratt?”

“Hmm?” he looks a little dreamy already, like he’s ready to nod off. 

“What did you mean before, ‘I’m glad it’s with you?’”

Pratt tenses then, just a little, “I don’t know...it’s nothing.”

It’s clearly something.

“It’s really nothing, it’s lame.”

Jacob doesn’t have to say anything, Pratt’s bound to spit it out himself.

“Just...I never let someone come in me before. I don’t know. It’s weird. Just. I fuck plenty of guys. Just. Never got around to it I guess. And uh, I’m glad it was you.” He laughs, “was pretty much as hot as I expected it to be. Though I gotta admit, less hot now.”

“Go clean up, if you want,” Jacob suggests, “but come back after, yeah?”

Why can’t he just spit it out? Why can’t he just ask Pratt to _stay_.

Pratt disappears for awhile, reemerging with another beer in one hand, his vape in the other, and wearing a pair of Jacob’s boxers he must have fished out from the laundry. Which is kind of gross but also pretty endearing. 

Laying on his back, Pratt keeps the beer on his stomach. Lifting up his head just enough to take a sip.

“I don’t want to come across as clingy or anything but, uh…”

“Stay,” Jacob blurts out, “it’s okay if you stay over.”

“Cool,” Pratt says, like this is nothing. Like that isn’t more meaningful than the fact that Jacob just fucked him in front of a live audience. 

Pratt doesn’t help him change the sheets, just stands around and looks pretty while he drinks his beer. At least he’s good at that.


End file.
